Pathfinder More Whispering Homunculus

50 A vast candle fully thirty feet high graded for the passing of a month and made of black wax A blackened tree carved like a totem with pictures of screaming devils rises in a circle of twelve stones A series of descending pools and waterwheels that power a huge clock face made from dragon scales A miniature brass clock moved by a tiny homunculus that resembles a spider A gold and platinum pocket sundial in a leather case An elaborate chamber with a gushing waterfall that slowly turns a crude yet very old mossy timber face upon which are carved the number of days in a year; a single metal bar points to the number of the day A graded candle made of dragon fat that burns for a year and a day A clock in a large wooden case depicting faceless figures marching around the sun and moon A sundial made from fey bones and elf teeth Twelve homunculus ravens caw the hour endlessly from their perch upon a goblin skeleton A chamber containing elephants that power a temple clock high on the roof that strikes the hour with gongs and is preceeded by a procession of mechanical camels A tower 33 ft. high containing a water clock powered by water elementals that keeps the time and displays the zodiac and astronomical bodies A silver and bronze oil lamp clock with a silver crow’s head figure and graduated times set in gold strips A bored imp that looks like a pig with wings swallows jade timepeas from jars marked with hours An hourglass set in the gripping mummified hand of a gargoyle An oil clock filled with floating fingers An elaborate water clock that drops a metal skull into a bowl below a rusty guillotine on the hour A zombie cockerel that crows at dusk and dawn 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Fifty Strange Timepieces

51 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The Shepherd’s Devil—an infamous timepiece said to be haunted by its own grim reaper and housed in a bell tower surrounded by traps to prevent it escaping A clock within an armillary sphere powered by attendant imps that track the passing heavens A sundial made of dragon skin A fine case clock depicting dancing sun and moons in long cloaks being eaten by rampant stirges and powered by a trio of permanent unseen servants A clock made entirely of mice skeletons A water clock of bronze and ivory powered by an enslaved water elemental that beats a gong every hour A fine gold and bone clock that keeps track of the passing seasons on magnificent landscape paintings A geared water clock connected to a stuffed dancing bear that dances a circle every hour A clock made entirely of animate zombie rats A goblin warlock’s tally stick depicting beheaded horses and dogs A stirge’s head hourglass A huge giant’s tally stick made of whale bones and mammoth tusks An oil clock held in a trio of glass flumphs A dwarf miner’s lamp clock carved from figures of mutilated goblins An imp holding a huge circular tally stick made of imp teeth that counts the seconds, minutes, and hours of the day A water clock depicting sultry mermaids eating lobsters An immense oil clock some twenty feet high that marks the passing days shown by silver moons and gold suns A carved choker shadow clock An incense clock fills a chamber; it has intricate statues of dancing songbirds and wind chimes A sumptuous dwarven water clock with cogs of finely carved gemstones 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 Fifty Strange Timepieces

52 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 A perpetually turning prayer wheel powered by an unseen servant; the wheel clicks off the hours The Mummer’s Fright—a haunted timepiece made of driftwood and iron said to have a resident wraith that eats children at midnight if any walk by A petrified gnome clasps a hourglass that is decorated with cockatrice feathers An homunculus resembling a fat two-headed toad endlessly licks off the minutes on an abacus A clock made of iron and the animated hands of skeletons A chained trio of trolls lacerate each other on an hourly signal given by a flesh golem bearing a scythe An elven oil lamp that burns for a hundred and one years An animated object with three metal heads screams the hours Fifty Strange Timepieces

53 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS One Hundred Matters of Great Importance to Animals “Just imagine it!” “Master?” “If we could talk to the animals!” “You can, Master. Buy a scroll in the mystic market of animal conversations.” “Chatting to a chimp in chimpanzee!” “Or you could get a wand.” “Grunt and squeak and squawk with the animals! And they could squeak and squawk and speak and talk to us!’ “Oh dear . . .” t comes up from time to time at our gaming table, often from our stubborn refusal to accept that Pathfinder Roleplaying Game gnomes can’t talk exclusively to burrowing mammals (which, with us, is the extent of their speak with animals spell). The speak with animals spell is fairly evasive about what conversations you can have with animals and goes on to say that . . . the more stupid ones make inane comments. Marvellous. What an opening for some occasional silliness at the roleplaying table. Here, then, are one hundred things an animal is most concerned about; drop it verbatim into any conversation, use it as the animal’s opening comment or a comment it repeats while providing some potentially useful information, or make it an inane comment that serves as the only thing it has to say. You might also consider I

54 I hungry I still hungry Do you have eating? Do you taste nicely? What be hat? Man, the spears pointing at us for the ending soon maybe? Are you talking me? How do I know you speaking? Where you nest? Very frightened Not Plenty Legs, why have you? Man made fire that bites Leave my nuts I like fruit What you? Teeth it has for biting, plenty Are you same me? What be triangle? Your fur look funny I have some lumps of it hid near an animal’s attention span to be very short and randomly roll each time a PC strikes up a conversation with a less than clever animal if you like, but don’t overdo it. Having said that, an adventure based around animal conversations could be a fun one-shot. The conversation is two-way, so some words come out from the spellcaster’s translation of what the animal is trying to say, or a word the animal has heard before and wants explaining. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 One Hundred Matters of Great Importance to Animals

55 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS I can I can’t Many Is that worm? Keep away! Very tall It has lots of legs! Something strange, it smells Something strange, smells you I like grass Like water I Can I eat? What’s color? Look my teeth the many, they for bite your leg could I! Stay back, lots more me nearby! I have teeth! Can lay eggs you? Wet soon be bad Earwigs—yum! Darktime bad What? Darktime good Why you why? Soil! Soil? What say? Chasing I for eating, you 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 23 24 One Hundred Matters of Great Importance to Animals

56 Man can’t see thing with arms many behind him Yum! I have bedding Argh! I need mate, you need mate? Man eat me wanting hungry Cold! Hot! Keep back, or great god Zubba eat you! Grrrrrrrrr! Flowers I like I bite you speak me many Words in head make me hurting, stop! What be chutney? Big bad things nearby plenty Smell many things are far Smell many things are near Eating? With wings the man fish soar I lonely, you live me? A man cook my mummy dead! A badger nearby I know for friendly Strange smells many have you the legs The many legs are eating I lion am! One head he watching 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 49 50 51 One Hundred Matters of Great Importance to Animals

57 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The food you eating horrid The food you eating now, give me Many head he watching you now stand behind It time not to do do I smell bad thoughts on you What be time? Time now for running More than me, many, the bad things near I told you once Stone is hard Tree is high Man is on fire Bears make honey Back! Back! Back! Cows make buckets Sheep make floors Again? We make baby now? Many arms near much, the touching Snow many the sun eating Day not day now I can climb tree! What’s crocodile? Noises strange the making Fish in the sea there are? The strange one is back . . . 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 75 76 77 One Hundred Matters of Great Importance to Animals

58 A Short Summary of the Fine Art of the Recurring Villain “Master, someone just knocked at the door.” “And…” “Sorry, Master, I forgot myself. One moment, and I’ll go and see who it is.” “Who is it, squidling?” “My lord, it is Arch-Queen Xera, the Dark Princess of Dead-Wood, your nemesis.” “Then show her in. This time, she shall not escape me.” any a memorable campaign has had at least one master villain who appears in more than just a single adventure. The main bad guy who comes back for more adds something to a long-running adventure path. A recurring villain gives your campaign, or a part of your campaign, a focus and a hate figure—someone on which you can hang whatever badness you wish, whether that is a feudal lord who takes land, a twisted warlock, or a serial killer who steals babies. The problem is how do you pull off the recurrence without it seeming far-fetched, or worse, annoying. A truly great recurring villain can add another dimension to your adventures: the jilted vampire lover, the childhood memory come back to haunt the adult, the enemy from beyond the grave. There’s a fine line, however, between running a good recurring villain and running a boring one. The villain that is one step ahead once or twice is good, and the dark spidery nemesis in the untouchable heart of a black web is cool, but the villain who doffs his proverbial hat and laughs as he escapes for the fifth time just becomes irritating. M

59 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Here are a few ideas to use as a springboard to a recurring villain or to give you an option for an enemy who is not so easy to defeat in a single adventure. The simple trick I’ve found is to give your enemy a good chance of escape, but don’t make it certain, or a key part of your future adventures. Once you decide beforehand that your villain is going to escape, it waters down the effect and leads to a dangerous precedent in your campaign—prejudging any event is a tricky line to cross. Keeping that simple piece of advice in mind, here are some ideas to help bring that villain back. Briefly, then. The “Grow with the PCs” Lower-Level Villains With limited powers, pulling an escape is superficially far easier at lower level than at higher ones. A gaseous form potion quickly swallowed can lead to instant escape, while an obscuring mist gives great cover to flee. An invisibility spell always provides a reasonable escape route while a fly spell is also a good way away from an encounter. If you think a little more out of the box, a jump spell on a city rooftop or narrow valley offers a dramatic escape, while a low-level druid encountered in thick briars can effect escape using woodland stride. More mechanical means, such as secret doors with locks on the escaping side, trapped escape routes, and even a simple swim by an NPC with a high skill rating over a waterfall, down a swift flowing mill race, or through an underground stream offer other potential escapes. Mechanical and skill means may be more memorable as the PCs actually see their foe flee, and an understanding of the escape makes it all the more plausible. Finally don’t be afraid to use monsters as part of the escape route; a character who can balance well might think nothing of fitting his or her escape room with an owlbear in it and a narrow beam above, while a creature on a short chain soon becomes a menace if, just beyond the creature, is a lever to lengthen the chain for anyone chasing. Now that your villain has met the PCs and seen their relative strengths, he or she will be better prepared next time. Using Magic Items Items such as the cape of the mountebank, ring of feather falling (where the final battle takes place on a mountain or high building), or a carpet of flying all offer plausible escape means that still offer pursuit or attack. You may decide that a villain has a magic portal that allows escape into somewhere not dangerous to him or her but dangerous to the PCs. A salamander with such a door could easily exit into a volcano. The Undead Villain Roleplaying games offer a second chance to you, with the opportunity for a villain who is so outraged by his or her death that the villain ignores it and becomes undead. Undead villains can be a fantastic way to continue a villain against your players because the very nature of the villain’s death creates an intimacy between A Short Summary of the Fine Art of the Recurring Villain

60 foes and makes the anger all the more palpable for those PCs who played a big role in dispatching the enemy the first time. Perhaps this time the creature is back for vengeance? You can also use followers and cultists to return your enemy if you want to use him or her a second time. Perhaps the ceremony requires certain elements that are brought to the PCs’ attention, and maybe a whole adventure could revolve around such a plot, with the PCs preventing their enemy’s return from death. Resurrection and the Villain Think carefully when using a raise dead or resurrection spell—does your villain warrant such an act—is it even possible? If your campaign uses such spells commonly, then there is no reason the enemy cannot use them too, but have a close look at the costs and requirements of such spells before using them. If in doubt, avoid this option. The Group as an Enemy A slight variation is to have associates of the foe appear from the shadows; is the group really a nation-spanning cult that the dead villain was merely a part of, and does that cult swear the death of those who slay their friends or steal from their bodies? These cultists could have an identifying mark—perhaps a tattoo or mask or mutilation that shows what they are. Having killed a man wearing a mask shaped like a stylized open-mawed deep-sea angler torn by wire, a second figure wearing an identical mask is seen whispering to messengers that he has returned to kill the PCs. The Enemy at Hand Perhaps the trickiest master villain to pull off is the enemy who walks boldly up to your PCs, states exactly what he or she intends to do, and yet is untouchable. Such a villain can generally exist only in a civilized locale—a place where, like our own world, the laws are tough, or through the use of spells such as prismatic wall. Your toolbox here is not limited to law and spells, however. Loved ones can be taken and used as hostages, and spells such as dream can be used to send messages. Your main villain could be something incorporeal, and creatures such as a ghost can delivers its threats through innocents, which makes a great potential master villain for you to use. Other monsters that have a quick escape, such as vampires and their gaseous form ability, give you another option. With all these villains, though, you need to keep it realistic and stay within the rules. A vampire queen, appearing on a balcony above the PCs in the moonlit streets of a decayed city, gives you a chance for her to profess her love for a PC, or threaten one with oblivion. Keep in mind that if such a date occurs every evening, you might that find your players become bored or focus solely on how they are going to trap and kill the vampire queen. A Short Summary of the Fine Art of the Recurring Villain

61 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Be wary—if you truly make your players loathe such a villain, any risk may be worth his or her death. Would a holy cleric really carry out a conversation with an evil cultist he hates and do nothing? No. More Macabre Ways to Return In one campaign, the cult the PCs were seeking had a dreadful pact that enabled the dead clerics of the cult to immediately rise after death as some revolting creature. Occasionally, such creatures came back with wings and fled the carnage, licked their wounds, and began to plot vengeance. After the cleric died a second time, however, that was that. The tougher the cleric, the tougher the thing it became, giving the PCs the dilemma of what to use their best spells on first—the foe or what their foe would become after death. Such plots are good to use on occasion to keep your players on their toes, but as ever, keep such plots for the tougher villains you wish to impress upon your players. A Short Summary of the Fine Art of the Recurring Villain

62 The Sticky End of Those Who Play With Fire “Master.” “Yes, Maggotlooks.” “That jar next to the pickled dwarf eyes—” “The one adjacent to the bladders?” “Yes, Master. What is that curious collection of distended and dislocated limbs pierced by shards of bones?” “My last homunculus. He asked too many questions of the demon prince Sprathcrorsche, Prince of Dislocating Death. Now, lance this boil, and hurry up about it.” aking deals with demons and devils is a risky business, and those who play with the emotions and tempers of such creatures risk a sticky end. One of the many satisfying aspects of fantasy roleplaying is ensuring that the bad guys eventually get their comeuppance, and those who strike deals with such risky associates make great fall-guys. The chart below gives you a few ideas for the way the leaders of such villains, or those who dare to strike bargains with the infernal, meet their final end. These effects occur only to the person or creature who has made the pact and should occur once they die, or when they reach a point where death is inevitable. As always, do not overuse these ideas; seeing a coven-leading witch suffer at the hands of her former master is cool once, and it might be good if it affects certain villains tied by some thread, but use this end sparingly at other times so that its effect is maximized. Obviously minor tinkering may be required to change some small details in these endings to better suit your own master villains. Do not use the suffering of your master villains as a way to deprive your PCs of treasure such enemies may have on M

63 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS He glances at the fatal blow and grins broadly in disbelief, his grin suddenly draining from his face as he sees something between the two of you that only he can see. A colossal maw suddenly hurtles from the space between you, taking off his head. As the maw vanishes, his screams continue. A shadow falls across her, and suddenly her body erupts in all directions, leaving nothing but the whiff of broken bones, blood, and a terrible infernal stench. She stares at you pitifully as she falls. “Save me from it! I beg you!” Her pleading eyes stare at the mortal wound you have inflicted upon her, and she suddenly stares down in terror. “No!” she screams. “Stay away, stay away!” A warped tentacle lashes at her from the ground and she is gone, except for her pleading voice as she is taken away to gods’ know where. He stares at you as he falls, and a moment later, a great pit rips before him, screaming with the cacophonous miseries of the fallen. He drops into the pit sobbing, the hole vanishing with a resounding clang. He is gone. “No!” he screams. “Let me die, let me die!” You see your fallen foe’s soul torn from him, his body following as he is torn inside out by a limb that appears only as a scaly shadow taking what is rightfully its. As she falls, a bellowing voice screams, its anger tolling like a bell. “Failure!” it yells. “Failure. You will be punished.” As the broken body of your foe is sucked into the shadows, she suddenly awakens, glances at you pleadingly and is gone. He smiles at the final blow, laughing as though it cannot harm him. Then, with an agonized scream, his body sloughs away to nothingness, melting like snow in the sunlight. Her body falls, becoming a mass of writhing maggots as it does. Suddenly, a trio of mouths greedily snap at the air, appearing from nowhere. They devour the maggots and vanish, with a lick of their infernal lips. He stares at the wound and then you, his haughty look suddenly vanishing into terror. “No!” he screams, his body decaying into a swarm of black flies and vanishing with a cry. “Pity!” A gargantuan black hand appears, grips your enemy and squeezes, breaking bones and flesh before taking him away. them; swords are dropped, and flesh may change and corrode or fall away, leaving clothing, rings, boots, and other objects. Make it realistic, but make sure they get the reward they deserve. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 The Sticky End of Those Who Play With Fire

64 As she drops, she stares upward. “No, we had a bargain!” she yells into the heavens. “You promised, you promised!” A voice of horror breaks from above, like shattering glass. “I lied” it says, as she is drawn away in pieces into the heavens above, screaming as she is taken apart in a bloody mist. His body erupts into writhing maggots with huge mouths, which feast upon each other until there is only one maggot left, which devours itself and vanishes with a childlike cry. As she falls, the sound of a screaming woman giving birth fills the air. There is slap and a baby’s cry. “No!” she screams, “not again, not again, master!” Then she is gone. His blood boils before you, and as it does, a coiling tentacle grasps around him, caressing him. “Now you are mine forever!” says a voice. There is a whiff of brimstone and he vanishes, his screams clearly only just beginning. Her body suddenly crumples, compacting with terrible ferocity. Her bones splinter and her muscles tear. The body crushes into itself, leaving nothing but a fat, wan worm. A clawed finger thrusts from the ground, pierces the worm, and what is left of her is taken, screaming with her dying voice. A boiling mist surrounds his fallen body, and you catch glimpses of his skin blistering. The sound of an infernal choir ring out, and then a chilling voice joins it. “Welcome,” it says. The last thing you hear of your enemy are his screams as his flesh, bones, and soul are taken to eternity. The unmaking of your foe goes on for several minutes as he is taken apart by shadowy forms that caress him, removing his flesh, his bones, and his soul to take with them. “Help me, I beg you!” he screams, his hands reaching pleadingly to yours. “It’s coming for me!” A shadow falls across him as he yells “It. Is—” and then he is gone, forever. Bones grind on bones as your enemy suddenly erupts from within. You glimpse devouring faces within his body, feasting, until only the husk is left. Seconds later, it falls to the ground like lace. As your enemy falls, there is a howl, and then more howls, as an infernal pack of unseen hounds come for him. His broken soul rises, seeking escape, but there is none. Somewhere very far away, the pack descends upon him and begins to feed. 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 The Sticky End of Those Who Play With Fire

65 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS One Hundred Obscure Professionals “Master!” “Again, slimesides, what now?” “There is a woman at the door.” “A woman? But it’s not Thursday.” “No, no, Master, another woman. This one is selling something.” “Tell her to go away. I tire of interruptions.” “But Master, she claims to be the only black pudding-rearer this side of Glacierland!” et’s face it, some people have some pretty unusual jobs, and sometimes it’s hard not to be jealous of someone who seems to have an easy life or who is good at something no one else is. Conversely, it’s hard not to feel sorry that some have achieved their somewhat strange station in life in a job perhaps few would wish for. Fantasy cities work in exactly the same way; there are people trading there who have few rivals, if any, and some misguided individuals who believe fame and fortune is only just around the corner for their obscure trade. There are also those who do jobs no one else would. On the back of the earlier YWH One Hundred Curious Emporiums, here then are One Hundred Obscure Professionals to use as background color, as NPCs with a tale, or for amusement. L

66 Lendrip Oswik, the World’s Greatest Aboleth Scholar Bid Lechry, Bleacher Sidney Ropwell, Carriage Lamp-Fitter Sage Gentry Horace Queld Marrimen—Cathedral Architect Dwarf Sheggly Mocrund, Master Chitin Crafter Lazarus Hulld, Component Sourcer to the Royal Wizardry Meg Mimply—Embalmer Jacob Strange—Executioner Matt the Fuller The Great Oldwind, Garden Designer Gnome Malldwick Shortsone, Gelatinous Cube Merchant Sankl the Glassblower Ulwin Beetleslayer, no Infestation too Great Archibald Crudd, Royal Glue Merchant Sparraw Turtlegraw—Gnome Taunter Extraordinaire! Bot the Spade Merchant Dot, son of Bot, Shovel Merchant Hemlin, Master Sledge Maker Freelinquin Ladysgrub, Masterwork Harpsichord Maker Torren the Ship Designer Mistress Jubb, Griffon Dealer of Countless Continents Master Jubb, Hippogriff Trainer Extraordinaire! Hazlet the Lime Burner Lime the Hazlet Maker Juppy Mudlark Dabb Clogger 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 23 24 25 20 21 22 26 One Hundred Obscure Professionals

67 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The Honorary Jacob Garb, the Cheese Monger The Great Quondrian, Naga Sage and Master of Snakes Mullins, Grubb and Tulin, Paste Gem Makers The Enigmatic Gratter, Professional Cloaker Hunter Tar the Fearless, Professional Owlbear Tamer His Holiness Zeluder Trudge, Pudding-Rearer and Ooze Sage Tailor Frin, Rag and Bone Man Young Festus, Royal Riding Dog Trainer Kalun the Ruff Merchant Jagreb the Cony Catcher Farrin the Tikka Grinder Joob Skinner Jacob the Peatcutter Lawrin Arkwright, Manufacturer of Masterwork Sealing Wax Watwell’s Amazing Wall Shield Mart The Amazing Lady Fress, Snake Charmer and Hypnotist Barrin the Soap Merchant Happy Abe Klepwright, Master Spoon Carver J B Griullitt and Son, Torture Chamber Fitter Mabb the Woad Dyer Physician Altreeb Nector—Leech Collector Vof the Gravedigger Captain Hubbard Tryst—Vampire Hunter Petal the Eel Fisher Calwin Cob, Master Cutler Chubb the Mousetrap Maker 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 One Hundred Obscure Professionals

68 Netwin Jon the Distiller Jogg Twine, Featherman by Royal Appointment Patterdon the Fell Monger Twill Bentram, Master Muffin Maker Bog Gelder Elizbeth the Horner Canner’s Clockery and Water Clock Workhouse Sadge the Ratcatcher—Wererats a Speciality Podge the Jagger Tarpull the Knoller Tarquin the Ewer Hazzard Cavail, Freakshow Exhibit Recruiter Brother Mantrim the Beekeeper Nadge Natman, the World’s Only Bat Milker The Singular Twerb, Silkworm Merchant to Kings and Queens Antry Guess, Nailmaker Elmin the Spider Gatherer Ankrem the Malster Tol the Dry Stone Waller The Great Puddrin, Sap Merchant Barnabus Quart, the Greatest Living Wax Fruit Maker Gollin the Cloakseller Ned the Ostler Nadge Quarryman Elis the Rag Cutter Zolwin Zolwell, the Legend of Mandolin Making 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 78 75 76 77 One Hundred Obscure Professionals

69 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Kuppy the Dowser Jog Shambler Karl the Wabster Drebblin Marg, Mole Trapper Mellenia Qurade, Lace Merchant Toll the Bagman Sarf the Sharkmeat Pickler Jacob Nodge, Noseflute Carver Extraordinaire! Tetchy Festus, the Master of All Things of Wire Hanris Slopseller Anrus Crole the Plowman Mistress Pickle, the Pickler who Pickles for Pickle-Loving Royals Potwin the Brave, Milker of Centipede Poison Jonjus and His Amazingly Curious Fish Mart Magg the Helm Chinstrap Making Mistress Dolg the Pigment Merchant Gubb the Plucker Rodgly Rugs Jastwin the Masterwork Framemaker Olwin Crab, Magnifying Lenses to the World Tarquin Fimlake, the Stage Set Painter Small Sleds by Thrab 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 One Hundred Obscure Professionals

70 Twelve Obsessive Collectors “Master!” “Do not raise your voice on Starling Thursday, Imp, or I’ll have your mouth sewn shut.” “But Master, the Noxious Underwizard Archwell is at the door. He’s located a specimen of the rare paradise stirge and wishes to sell it!” “Paradise Stirge! At last! At last my collection is complete! Bring him in immediately, whilst I open my chest of platinum!” bsession is a wonderful thing in roleplaying games, and few are as obsessive as true collectors. Collectors can give you so many options in your game: the helpfully obsessed collector who pays over the odds for rare goods, the demented madman who kidnaps and takes whenever he can, the curious expert who has a benevolent role to play in an adventure. These NPCs and their collections stand out from standard nonplayer characters, and the obsession they have can be used to make them seem real, mad, or sad. Here are twelve such collectors for you to use in your adventures; some have obvious motives, others less so. They are, as always, given to you to use as you wish, perhaps to inspire other NPCs or plots, or maybe to use as permanent NPC friends who are always interested in what the PCs have to sell. One use you could put them to in particular is the lure: an NPC who pays the greatest prices, perhaps through an intermediary at first, but then slowly establishing a relationship with the PCs—a relationship that slowly but surely corrodes as the NPC’s true motives become apparent. O

71 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Dorcas Threb, the Thing about Finger-Bones… The oddness starts at his front door, which has a knocker made of finger-bones jointed on wire. In the lobby, a spiral stair made of giant finger-bones rises to his attic—the spiral stair is Threb’s pride and joy. He made it himself over the course of eleven summers after collecting enough giant finger-bones to realize one of his many ambitions. The strangeness continues in the other rooms; he’s made cup-handles from fingerbones fused by magic, pokes his fire with a poker made of the finger-bones of a bone devil, and reads his books or makes more objects beneath a chandelier made of the finger-bones of sahuagin. Threb is curiously handsome but has an odd air. He glances over people’s shoulders, examines their fingers with admiration, and asks if—perhaps—they would donate a hand to his collection after their death. Havanri Habb, the Butterfly Collector Habb’s home is a narrow (some would say claustrophobic) tower by the banks of a river. The tower is built upon four levels, with a tiled rooftop. Within, Habb has been taken over by his collection of butterflies and moths. Every inch of space is some form of display cabinet or display drawer; level after level of cases, some deep, some tiny, some gilded, some plain. Habb couldn’t properly tell you exactly how many butterflies he has, since it changes almost daily, but, at the last great audit he held, it was 11,208. He has developed a bookish demeanor, and his thin hair is swept comically over his pate. He has a weatherworn look about him. His collection contains some huge specimens, including the rare goliath moth, the great evening paradise butterfly, and the huge batmoth of the jungle. His collection is crowned by two exhibits: a vermilion gloomwing and a mothman pickled in brine and vinegar. Janwen and His Knives It’s true Janwen is a butcher, so that’s where he may have got the fascination, but now it’s gone beyond a joke. His wife left him just over a year ago, taking their baby with her and claiming Janwen was barking mad. He has a thing about knives, you see. More than a thing actually—it’s a consuming passion or even a need. There are curved knives, short knives, long knives, heavy knives, long pointy knives, serrated knives, pocket knives, giant knives, obscure strange-handled knives, knives with filigree work, knives with names carved on them, knives with scrimshaw handles, knives with pearl handles, knives without handles, and broken knives that need fixing. Janwen spends his idle hours sharpening his collection, using a variety of techniques, whetstones, and knife-sharpening machines. He’s always looking for the perfect knife for his collection, and he becomes greatly agitated if someone shows him a knife that is lovely, but then tells him he can’t have it. He’s as close to the edge as he can get, and one day soon he’ll snap and put his knives to better uses than displaying. Twelve Obsessive Collectors

72 Marquis Elman, the Tormentor of Lycanthropes He had to kill his son after the werewolf bit him. They were far away from help—on a great exploration of the peaks—when he contracted lycanthropy. Killed him with his own hands, using a silver blade he always carried for luck. Since that day Elman has become obsessed. If only he had a cure—if only he could cure all lycanthropy. He studied, he learned, and he became obsessed with his enemy: the disease, the terrible wicked disease. Now Elman works on subjects, tries out methods and techniques, cures and preparations, in an attempt to cleanse them of the sickness. The marquis has taken a residence far from prying neighbors: a secluded old church he now uses as his laboratory. And within, he collects specimens of sickness— wererats and werewolves, werebears and wereboars, anything that is afflicted. He pays handsomely for live subjects, but does not want any questions asked. He has plenty of ready cash from his title and estate, and a small group of trustworthy souls has let it be known that the marquis is engaged in vital studies to advance the art of physicians everywhere. He pays 500 gp per Hit Dice for live lycanthropes, double that for rarer subjects. But once paid, he wants no one to learn of his collection nor interfere in the great work ahead. Moinman’s Silent Menagerie Stuffed animals of all sizes stare from the chambers of Moinman’s crooked townhouse at the end of a curious street in the city. His fascination began when he was a child and saw a stitched and fake mermaid in a museum in his home city. He stole the object, and that began his collection. Some find the curiously tall Moinman unsettling, there is a little sadness in his eyes, and the stories about him singing hymns to his animals at night just refuse to go away. He pays handsomely, however, for the unblemished new curio, the strange beast, and the oddest aberration. His collection has grown large, and he’s recently bought the house next door to house more of his exhibits, including a huge number of stuffed swans and birds of paradise he purchased recently. Necrus Twill, the Spider Collector Twill has to live just outside of town now; his exhibits kept on escaping, and one day a child was taken. They said Twill’s Tarantulus Gargantua did it, but never proved it. Twill was very careful to hide the evidence, but after it had a taste, and he saw the effect it had upon the spider’s size, he knew he must keep feeding it such prime meat. Twill, a nervous slight man, keeps himself to himself and makes light of the thousands of spiders he keeps in his claustrophobically hot chambers. If visitors get too pushy, he shows them the Great Jungle Dog-Eating Spider, the deadly Widow’s Cause, or the revolting webs of the great Cluster Swarm Spiders, who allegedly eat horses. Because, in truth, Twill just wants to be left alone to see what effect the feeding of fresh flesh has upon his Gargantua Spider. Twelve Obsessive Collectors

73 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Sir Rankwen Frien, the Mummy Collector Although his collection raises alarm bells everywhere nearby, Frien is merely interested in the acquisition of mummies with a view to firstly enhancing his innocent curiosity of genuinely dead mummies. Then there’s the potential to question the more intelligent mummies and learn the secrets of their formation, as well as any other secrets they may have to allude to the location of lost burial sites, ancient temples, and other—potentially vastly lucrative—archaeological sites. That Frien has to occasionally dismember or reduce a mummy to a head and chest through his questioning is merely a fact that assists him in his work; they are undead and have no feelings, therefore threatening their extinguishment of unlife is merely a valid way of questioning them. Tarramor and the Faces Masks can be troubling, and Tarramor has lots of troubling masks. She’s a troubling person—an overtly artistic lady with a shocking edge and an unpredictable and twisted sense of humor. She wears the masks for special occasions, and when she does, she takes on the personality of the mask as she sees it. The troubling thing is that Tarrramor rules this shire and its countless terrified subjects of the land of Fotherly: acres of moorland and mountains on the edges of civilization. She loves to have visitors to her manse, where she regales them with her clever acting as the masks. Some visitors she likes, some she doesn’t. Those she doesn’t like she lets go, then sends the hunt after them—hounds and men riding swift horses who wear masks of men and dogs eating people alive. In truth, a worse fate is in store for those she likes, for she dons seductive masks of passion, and if these are rebuffed, she takes upon the mask of the spurned woman. The Ghoul Collector Pickled ghouls in armored glass jars may seem an odd obsession, but Parran Robin thinks it is perfectly normal. He uses the ghouls to conduct his own fascinating trials into the extent to which ghoul fever can be passed to other creatures. He has to live alone, of course, and although he’d love a wife, whenever they get close and find out about the ghouls, they seem to leave. Or stay, if he makes them. His obsession doesn’t end at mere experimentation, however, for he also likes to hunt, and when he releases his experiments from his isolated hunting tower deep in the pine forest, he heads out with his faithful hound and horse to savor the thrill of the hunt. There is nothing like a human ghoul for prey, however, and Parran has found that, just occasionally as a treat, he has to bulk up his collection with fresh meat to infect. The most choice morsels, he’s found, are adventurers; so cunning, so clever, so resourceful. And, of course there are always two such hunts—the first to capture, the second to kill the infected meat. Twelve Obsessive Collectors

74 The Great Cartographer and Historian Edwin Mabe Although its owner is rarely at home, the mansion of Mabe is a treasure trove of maps and objects, parts of temples, whole statues, and even an entire pyramid, semireconstructed in the grounds of his lodge. Edwin keeps a staff of strange foreign people at his mansion, and curious music can be heard at all hours wafting through the downs and along the river. Some people claim that Edwin died decades ago and that the staff actually runs the mansion as a lure for those whose knowledge they wish to acquire. The Hoarding Women You smell the mansion long before you see it. She’s never thrown anything out that could be vaguely useful—neither her nor her twin sister—and that includes rags, bones, broken objects, rusted objects they’ve dug up, and any manner of crap. The mansion groans under the collected weight of two long lifetimes of unhinged hoarding and bristles with room after room of flotsam, rubbish, and, sometimes, treasures. The Hoarding Women—they forgot their true names long ago—love visitors; they get so few these days. They like to invite visitors to stay, but sometimes these visitors get lost in the confusing mass of chambers, and they eventually end up in the east wing where their poor demented brother lives. The Museum of Lilith Grenk She is ridiculously, outrageously beautiful, but she is, sadly, quite demented. Lilith loves beauty—covets it and smothers herself in it. Beautiful paintings, beautiful sculptures, beautiful people—all must be hers. She always pays the highest price for beauty, and she is well known by fences and rogues, adventurers and antiquarians. There are rumors about such collectors. Some people say that Lilith’s collection is too complete and spans too many centuries. These folk claim she is undead—a vampire or a lich, perhaps. They say that she takes lovers who are never seen again save as statues: statues beneath clay, statues that were smothered alive as people by her desperate admiration of their beauty and a desire to keep it the same forever. Twelve Obsessive Collectors

75 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Seasonal Scares “Snow.” “Lordling?” “Slush, ice, hail, blizzard. How lovely it all appears from in here, behind thick glass, whilst we sit by the roaring fire eating honey-roasted pig trotter.” “Whilst you sit by the fire eating, great one. I have to content myself with blocking the gap in the window-frame with my posterior.” “And so you should, maggot-sired, so you should. How lucky you are to be inside, however. Imagine if I decided suddenly on a whim to command you to sit outside…” t all looks lovely from inside, but out in the cold, horrors lurk. Is that snowman really a caryatid column, is that blizzard hiding an unseen terror in its wake, and is that enormous tureen nothing more than a lurking mimic? Here are some serious, and some not too serious, horrors to throw at your players over the Yule period. These wolves-in-sheep’s-clothing scenarios promise to be more than they appear. Innocuous Snowmen Snow conceals many things: tracks, frozen rivers, and perhaps even whole houses. Use snow as a cover to spice up your encounters, or, if you wish, conceal the foe right before a PCs’ eyes by having creatures covered in snow or resembling snowmen. Remember, it’s not just creatures like golems, constructs, and animated objects that can remain totally still; gargoyles, for example, can remain motionless, an ooze can squat frigid beneath a thin later of snow, and even a sleeping giant can slumber beneath a thick fur that has become covered overnight by a blizzard. Each of these can, essentially, hide in plain sight due to snow. I

76 The Field of Twisted Snowmen is an outer defense for a particularly cruel enemy. Outside, throughout the long winter, the ruler of the dungeon complex beyond leaves gargoyles guarding the entrance. These creatures sit throughout the day among numerous carved stone and wood gargoyle statues that grip prisoners, who remain bound and gagged in the statue’s grasp until death greets them. What PCs see is a group of deformed snowmen. What they don’t see are the prisoners who still live among the snow’s icy grip. Father Yule Whatever he is called, every land has a spirit of winter. This figure may be one of joy, a herald of the coming spring, or a figure of terror—master of the longest night. Cunning enemies may take advantage of this appearance by disguising themselves as the spirit. Does the cruel devil wander the rooftops at night as Father Yule, the laughing figure who distributes presents to children, only to take the babes away to be eaten? Do petty criminals disguise the Thieves’ Guild activities by donning disguises of Father Long Dark, who wields his scythe and beheads anyone who dares leave home after dark? Seasonal disguises, be they Father Yule or carnival costumes, offer nonhumans a chance to walk within a town, possibly to learn secrets or to take things. Macabre Decorations Ice sculptures depicting acts of horror and encasing terrified dismembered victims adorn the outer woods belonging to a tribe of demented inbred trolls. A tribe of giants delights in making huge men of snow that encase the crushed and pulped bodies of their enemies. The village of the goblins is decorated in mites bound in thorny briars and holly. Monsters with any amount of intelligence may use the snow and ice as seasonal deterrents; with them they can hide entrances, leave enemies outside to freeze to death bound to ancient trees, or partially submerge foes in freezing streams to leave icy sentinels rising from frozen waters. Horrors Behind the Glaze What better way to disguise the smell of poison than beneath the glaze of honey, what finer time to attack the settlement than when all its guards are drunk, what better way to dupe someone than to give them a gift disguising vengeance in bright colors and fancy wrappings? Furthermore, paranoia can be a wonderful tool if your players know someone is out to get them, and it allows you to create a good atmosphere for an adventure with very little work; simply run through a few menus, games, and innocent conversations in the festive spirit and watch what transpires. The Wolf-Jester hides in the open at the royal court, his werewolf blood boiling beneath the disguise of a fool. As the winter celebrations pick up, the lord’s hated foes arrive to sue for peace, and, unless the festivities pass well, war is coming. What part does the Wolf-Jester play in the coming carnage, and can the PCs unmask the true wolf in sheep’s clothing? Seasonal Scares

77 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Ghostly Singing The sweet sound of singing and hymns keep enemies from the door, but do they also herald the return of damned spirits or spectres of the brutally slain looking to avenge themselves upon the living? Of late, villagers have been terrorized by the singing of a ghostly choir, which echoes at the entrance of homes in the dead of night. The singers are actually wraithspawned children, taken one winter night by an evil wraith who devoured their souls in a nearby, long-abandoned chapel. Outside in the night, the wraith awaits victims who are foolish enough to venture into the dark. In the meantime, others use the wraith’s foul activities for their own devices. Hibernating Foes For many, the long winters are too dangerous to be abroad in, and doors are locked against the cold outside. During this period, such communities are cut off and become prey to whatever horrors they have sealed in with them. Do the PCs get embroiled in such adventures? Do the creatures rise from the caverns beneath, or are they mixing freely with the locals? Using this technique to oppress and imprison gives an adventure that can bring feelings of claustrophobia and isolation. You could set it up so that only the PCs become so trapped in a fortunate refuge against a terrible winter storm, only to find they are not alone. Knock, Knock What person would wish to be abroad on so foul a night? Sometimes, even the vilest creature may be drawn toward hearth and home. So, with all this in mind, what knocks at the door in the dead of night? Perhaps the PCs find lodging in a ruinous inn one wintry night. As midnight approaches, the innkeeper and his sullen wife become more agitated and often stare at the front door. Suddenly there is a pounding knock at the door, but as the PCs move to open it, the innkeeper and his wife beg the PCs to leave the door shut, for it is the devil that visits the tavern at midnight on this day… The Center of Attention The PCs may be in the wrong place at the wrong time when they arrive at a settlement whose locals delight in the taste of human flesh. Such locals ply the PCs with as much food and ale as they can consume over a three-day festival before introducing their guests to the belly of the Hungry One, an iron statue of a troll that has a great oven in its belly. Seasonal Scares

78 A Time to Think of Those Less Fortunate “I hate today.” “Master?” “The celebration, the winter, the festivals. This one I hate more than the others.” “But think how happy everyone else is today, Master. Think of their happy faces, their full bellies, their family gatherings bursting with joy and pie.” “Exactly. While I sit here with you and this inflatable pig.” “But I thought it was what you wanted! Please, Master, put your party fez back on, or perchance the glittery wizard’s hat I also bought for you for this special day—the one with ‘wizard’ written upon it in big sparkly letters.” “Hmm, today I prefer to think of those less fortunate than myself. On this day, of all days, we should think of those poor unfortunates who cringe in the shadows awaiting slaughter without dialog™, and offer them succor…” obolds have it tough . . . Let’s face it—just how many recurring kobold enemies has your campaign seen, ever? How many arch-kobold-villains have sent characters cringing back to their villages and castles shaking with fear? When was the last time your adventure path ended with a kobold BBEG? Not many times, I suspect. Shall we take this joyful moment to redress that balance? Let us make this coming year the year of the kobold. Let her stride purposefully from her lair and bellow her ire. Let the kobold be your villain of choice for the next twelve months. Let a darkness fall as a renewed menace in our dungeons—the mighty kobold. K

79 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The encounters below give you a few suggestions, spices, pointed sticks, and shocks to throw into your kobold toolbox (and what a lovely phrase “kobold toolbox” is). As usual, keep them in your back pocket as ideas to twist an encounter, or use them as detailed for adventures or whole adventure paths. Don’t take them too seriously, or use them too much. When the unexpected is the expected it isn’t unexpected anymore. Goodness Gracious Great (Snow)Balls of Fire!—A Kobold Encounter, Side Trek, or Adventure It is winter—deep winter—but the tribe of Frostrippers are well-used to their frigid home. Over the years, they have become adept at moving quickly using sledges, hiding in snowmen, and—particularly—at throwing. The tribe youngsters are trained with snowballs before they can crawl or bite, and the training is brutally efficient. The tribe favors thrown weapons over other more traditional kobold weaponry and are more adept at survival in the cold. The snowballs they toss are generally squashed around sharp stones, caltrops, and other spiky things. So when the tribe happens upon two barrels of alchemist’s fire, they begin to wreak havoc. Vials make excellent hidden extras in snowballs, and the explosions are a delight to watch, so much so that they become addictive. The PCs are brought into this adventure or encounter as troubleshooters, to deal with the pesky kobold menace. Do they know about the exploding snowballs? Is their first encounter one of shock and awe as the tribe’s outer warriors sledge toward the PCs tossing exploding snowballs with deadly accuracy? Consider also the makeup of the stash. Does it contain other wonders, acids, or potions? Substitute these variations into your kobold stat blocks: Ranged *snowball +4 (1/×2 plus alchemist’s fire) Feat Point-Blank Shot Skills Craft (trapmaking) +4, Perception +1, Stealth +6, Survival +1 *snowball counts as a grenade-like weapon. The idea of magic snowballs (with the cunning addition of magic weapon spells) or snowballs with magic stones in is just silly, of course. Koboom!—A Kobold Adventure The Shockdeath tribe is small and little known, but they have a deadly secret. The tribe members have mated in the past with a group of dark stalkers and creepers, and as such, have inherited a little of these latter creatures’ death throes ability. When you kill these kobolds, they explode, messily and violently. The PCs are offered what seems like a fairly mundane job—venture into the Twisty Caverns and attack the kobold tribe therein. After the kobolds have been exterminated, return to town to collect the reward. Local miners even know of a A Time to Think of Those Less Fortunate

80 sneaky way in: an underground river known as the Twisty Turny River, a series of tricky and dramatic rapids that allow the PCs access into the very heart of the caverns. All goes well, despite the challenges of the Twisty Turny River, until the first kobold is killed. With its death comes the realization that the only way out now is through the caverns filled with violently exploding kobolds, many of whom have death wishes and a fanatical religious desire to self-destruct, taking as many surfacedwellers with them as possible. Substitute these variations into your kobold stat blocks: Special Attack death throes (see below) Death Throes (Su) When a kobold of the Shockdeath tribe is slain, its body combusts in a flash of white-hot flame. This acts like a fireball that deals 2d6 damage to all creatures within a 15-foot-radius. A DC 13 Reflex save halves this damage; a tribe-member’s gear and treasure are unaffected by this explosion. The save is Constitution-based. My Perfect Cousin—A Kobold Adventure At last! Destiny has finally been fulfilled. Well, in a way. It’s a well-known fact that kobolds have a great affinity with dragons, and when the Fluffwing tribe announces that they have a dragon in their caverns and demand tribute, the neighboring humanoids scoff. Then the truth begins to out—the Bonebiter troglodyte clan were the first to be assailed, withering as a force when they entered the great hall of the Fluffwings and saw and heard the dreadful dragon in all its emerald glory. The result: They stretched out at its vast beryl feet and declared their obedience to the malachite horror. The chief of the Fluffwings—the Terrible Gob—was lenient and merciful, however, and a suitably vast tribute was leveled for the trogs’ understandable mistake and unwitting naughtiness. Word spread, and soon tributes arrived to the jade terror from the nearby goblin tribe of Butterfly Dewingers and the gnoll tribe of Stomp. Each bore a note—please do not eat us mighty dragon, here is lots of treasure so you hopefully wont, and there’s more to come. Unfortunately, Gob likes pretty things and soon spent the money on sealing wax and fancy hats and silk underthings. Hitting upon another truly chiefy plan, he sent his mightiest warriors to the nearby halfling village of Chuddle to demand tribute. Halfling rangers were sent out to investigate the claims about dragons and they soon learned from other humanoid tribes nearby that there really is a huge green dragon at Fluffwing Caves. The tribute was readied in wagons. ENTER THE PCS TO CHUDDLE The Fluffwing’s friend is a little less dragon than clay and bones and moss in a large dark cave. Add the fact that the sinkholes in the great cave echo greatly, and the scene is set for a very convincing dragon. A beautifully harmonious deep-voiced trio of kobolds shouting from a high hole lends credence to the green dragon’s terrible booming voice, the occasional flap of a fake wing adds further realism, and the burning eyes of lanterns complete the image. The scene is also set for a group of heroes to enter the fray and unmask the façade. A Time to Think of Those Less Fortunate

81 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Unfortunately for them, if they do so, the goblin, gnoll, and troglodyte clans are so infuriated and embarrassed by being duped by bloody kobolds that they dare not risk word spreading. They form an alliance to overthrow Chuddle and slaughter every last man, woman, child, kitten, puppy, foal, and piglet to prevent their shame from being known to other humanoids. The Battle of Chuddle is coming . . . The Mouse Trap—A Kobold Adventure Path They know only two things about him—his name and his trade. They call him the Trapmaester, and for good reason. His (or is it hers?) are the greatest, most elaborate and devious traps ever seen in the alpine town of Ulrichshorn. Ever seen anywhere in the world, some rightly claim. The Trapmaester Yiprick Kacklecat (NE female kobold aristocrat 1/rogue 13) has grander designs than just the praise and money of the townsfolk—she wants it all. Yiprick has grown very fond of man-things: their fine cakes, their comfy beds, their full larders and meat lockers, and their powerful port-wine. She wants it. She is slowly bleeding the town from within, replacing civic leaders of the Rotaria Club (the ruling Masonic group in the town), and now has half a dozen agents in hats of disguise working for her. Her latest plan (and masterstroke) has been the removal of the Crown Prince of Ulrichshorn, the foppish Gullwin Vonsteardgg III, and replacing him with another of her agents so she can put the final parts of her plan into operation—the taking over of Ulrichshorn and the establishment of a covert kobold dictatorship ruled by her. Soon her beloved kin will enjoy the fruits of men’s labors in their cozy holes below ground while above, all seems perfectly normal and life can go on, and on, and on. The adventure path begins with the PCs involved with the Thieves’ Guild of Ulrichshorn, a nasty bunch of overweight wind-blown beer drinkers whose trade is being taken by kobolds, a large number of which have moved into caves below town. The problem is that the kobolds are better thieves than the thieves themselves, although in truth slightly less greedy than their human cousins. The Guild hires dupes to go into the caverns and attack. During the conflict, the PCs learn two things—that the Guild is running the town and extorting money from the poor (and is actually probably worse than the kobolds), and that the kobolds found are merely the tip of the iceberg—there are thousands of them somewhere below. The Rotaria Club becomes involved, firstly out of a seemingly noble desire to rid the city of thieves, and secondly to learn more about the kobolds and be rid of them too. The PCs begin a series of actions against the naughty Guild members, unmasking various plots and unwittingly working for the Trapmaester as they do, and secondly in unknowingly getting sidetracked away from the main kobold force, which is building beneath the town. After various adventures and having all but wiped out the Guild, the PCs are lured into a trap by the Trapmaester—a terrible maze of living, thinking automata. As they emerge from the maze, they are assailed by a vast kobold force and learn the truth— the town is actually ruled by kobolds. Only the last-minute intervention of some unexpected allies in the form of the true rulers of Ulrichshorn averts catastrophe. By now, however, winter has set in and the town is effectively isolated. The PCs A Time to Think of Those Less Fortunate

82 spend the long winter engaged in a war against the false kobold rulers of Ulrichshorn and band together with a group of rebels loyal to the true crown, led by a young rogue ranger called Steeilashce (NG female aristocrat 3/ranger 3/rogue 1), the sister of the (now dead) original Crown Prince and the true heir to the town. But the townsfolk see the PCs as rebels, and the fake rulers hold all the cards as winter begins to bite . . . Yippee! A Few Other Kobold Ideas The hunt is out. Woe and fear to all who cross them! Use your kobolds imaginatively, give them powerful (perhaps overly powerful) weapons or allies they have no idea how to control, ally them weirdly, or make them overly important to, or rule over, tougher monsters, and you have the seeds of a new way of looking at our scaly little nuisances. How about kobolds riding upon trolls? The trolls owe a clan debt to the kobolds who use them as mounts and weapons of war. The trolls have raised platforms upon their shoulders, keeping their little masters safe above to toss weapons and boiling oil at their foes. The appearance of dire rats in a kobold tribe block is an oddity and begs a few questions. Do the rats follow the kobolds for a reason other than food (which, let’s be honest, is more likely to be kobold than anything more dangerous and filling). Are they kept as pets? If so, are other pets around, and what are they? Is lycanthropy present? A quick flip of random pages of the Pathfinder RPG Bestiary for a couple of random allies can be great fun and challenge you as a GM and writer to come up with a reason. Challenge yourself as I have here by randomly flipping the bestiary pages to find two allies, and give yourself a minute to come up with a reason for the trio of monsters. Here are two examples done using that exact method, plus the resulting rationale behind the alliances: Assassin vine, ettin, kobold. The kobolds garden the vines, and the ettins use them as tribute to tougher, scarier ettins. A blight is affecting the vines and the kobolds kidnap a local druid to find a cure. The time for tribute is upon them again and they are desperate. Dire wolverine, earth elemental, kobold. The wolverines are pets of a powerful kobold ranger, but their pelts are very valuable. Unscrupulous hunters from the local village of Pinekarl hunt the wolverines and have bagged three already. The ranger sends her elemental servants in at night to attack the village, mingling into the countless standing stones that the village is surrounded by. Do the PCs use roleplaying to rid the village of the hunters, or hunt down the kobold ranger and her tough allies? Use your kobolds wisely. A Time to Think of Those Less Fortunate

83 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Twenty Village Idiots “Master.” “Again, slug, can’t you see I’m dressing?” “It’s because of that I’m here, O copious girthly one. Which costume do you wish for, for your mission to spy upon the Robber Baron Fortinbrag and his vultures of Woe?” “You really do have the brains of a tapeworm, sluglet. When one wants to spy, one hides in plain sight. Bring me a bale of straw, a fake ginger beard, a smock, and a fez. This mission calls for nothing less than village idiocy.” et’s face it, the job of village idiot is not much. Spending your days eating mud pies and saying artichoke at the top of your lungs can’t do much for your morale. Take a moment off from idiocy and your entire career is blown; show any signs of normalcy and that’s the end; offer the merest hint of intellect and you’re doomed. This is all well and good if you’re a true village idiot, but of course life is not always as it seems. The humble idiot lolling about in the pigpen may be Lady Hemptruss, Paladin of the Golden One, or maybe even Girella Twine, deadly assassin of the Guild of Naughty Burglars and Slayers Without Dialogue. Here, then, are twenty such idiots, some of whom are more than meets the eye. Several are idiots, of course—it wouldn’t do for every village idiot to be someone in disguise. The much-admired Guild of Professional Idiocy would, if one existed, take a dim view of such fraudulent behavior. L

84 Captain Huss, on the church steeple sobbing: Huss (LG male human paladin 7) uses his state of poverty as cover for his latest operation. He dresses in an old sack cloth and sobs for the sinners of the world. Those who listen closely to what he says hear words of the old times in his hymns and sobbing, and below that forsaken exterior is a powerful man. He is aware that out beyond the village walls, ghouls are gathering. He’s been watching them for some time now, and he regularly listens to the graves by night for digging from below. Huss is careful because he knows the ghouls have undead friends in the village who wish to see the locals eaten one by one. Eliza Strange: She wanders the village singing and collecting dead insects in her apron. Some say she’s seen the devil and gone mad, others say she fell into a milk churn as a baby and was never the same. Strange (CN female gnome witch 4) is indeed a little demented; she is making a baby from insect shells and husks of old bees out in her hut just nestled below Rushley Tor. Halfpenny There: Halfpenny is dressed in the old robes of a priest and claims to be on a mission for his god: the lord of wisdom and sufferance in life. He sings, he shouts, he bays his sinfulness into the heavens above. Far from it, There (NE male human rogue 5/assassin 3) actually murdered a priest some time ago and is hiding in plain sight. A sworn enemy of the priest’s family and church, he is actually a consummate assassin who is about to be sought out by friends eager to use his services—this time to kill the PCs. In the meantime, the dead priest’s inquisitors arrive on the scene looking for vengeance. Hedgerow Hobb, sat in a trough full of sour milk: The singing dwarf loves ale, but cannot abide its taste now, having drunk so much in his life that the very smell of it makes him sick. He sits in his trough, which is filled with a mix of spring water and curdled milk given him by local farmers, taking in the smell in the hopes that one day he’ll stomach a drink again. Hobb (CN male human commoner 2) looks longingly at those who drink ale, those who have ale, or those who look like they’ve drunk lots of ale. Hobb sleeps in a hedgerow and has a pig called Terpsichore for company. Judge Jumpry and his judgmental sheep jury: The bewigged Judge (N male half elf wizard 8/loremaster 2) passes judgment from dawn till dusk on all matters in the village—the birds in the sky, the rain, the passing walk of strangers—and looks to his sheep for a judgment, which is almost always that the object or act is sinful. He knows this because his sheep baa if he asks them for decree. And, of course, they almost always baa! On the odd occasion when the sheep have kept silent after he’s asked them to pass sentence, he falls into an oddly educated torpor for an hour or so, during which time he is a mine of useful tales and information about devils who take people’s wits away. 1 2 3 4 5 Twenty Village Idiots

85 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Jullith Barn, riding naked about town on that great goat o’ hers: Some say the goat (satyr ranger 3) is her lover transformed by his magic saddle into the likeness of a great goat. Barn (CN female human druid 6) knows all about herbs and their uses and dangers. She lives out on Noxley Bog far from prying eyes and only comes to town—astride her lover—when she is in need of supplies she cannot make or forage. Her mind dwells in an odd place, however, and her smiling unsettles almost everyone she meets. Lord Notright and his talking pigs: Notright (CN male gnome commoner 3) has a strangely angled smile, as though he were grinning about something in another place. Some say he once ventured to the edge of a great forest in the beyond of madness, and that his wits still wander there, seeking a home. His pigs don’t so much talk as snort and roll around in mud, but one of them is a polymorphed fallen angel that dreams of a map that shows how to reach this forest. Sometimes the group wakes up with odd map bits drawn nearby in the soil or scratched into a wall of a barn. Lotty Vacant, singing with the pigs: Poor Lotty (CN female human commoner 1). She is truly mad and falls for every handsome stranger that comes to these parts. When she spies them, a change comes over her. At first she approaches them attired and talking like a lady. Little by little, however, she becomes more obsessed and drives the stranger away, only to return by day with her singing pigs telling the whole world of the acts of love they enjoyed together. She finishes her song by proclaiming herself to be the visitor’s new bride. Mad Jack MuggMugg, laughing and singing among the gravestones by night: And he has good reason. Mad Jack (CE male human ghoul rogue 4) is dead, although it’s almost impossible to tell. He won’t give up on life, and he has only ever eaten animal flesh—so far. The villagers stay away from Jack, claiming him to be mad, and Jack stays well away from everyone—out of sight if he can. Sometimes the village children sneak out of bed to chase him and throw stones at him to make him go away, but no matter how cruelly he is treated, he always returns. When he does, he sobs quietly at the graveside of his poor mother—he is sure he hears her whispering back from deep below the earth. Sometimes he thinks he should reach out and touch her to see if she will come back to him. Miss McGuire, Prancing and Dancing: Often seen singing up at Bradlug Tor on the edges of the wild moors, McGuire (CN female human commoner 1) is known to be mad. Though her dancing seems to have a purpose—almost as though she were looking for something—all she does is lure travelers to their deaths in her bog. Her sister—she claims— lives and eats below the mires to this day, and she gets so hungry in the cold and damp of below. 6 7 8 9 10 Twenty Village Idiots

86 Mucky: The filthy farmhand Mucky (CN male commoner 3) wanders about dressed in horse muck, rags, and a huge smile. Mucky is a bit simple (in fact, a lot simple), but he talks innocently to his friends outside of town (a band of goblins) and tells them what carriages and caravans are heading their way in the next few days. For helping them Mucky gets pretty stones, but shhh, it’s his big secret . . . Mutty Lad Limpley, clambering about the trees in the orchard like a monkey: The Mutty Lad (NE male human aranae sorcerer 6) has an uncanny way with trees and climbing, but his big impish grin wins over goodwives and farmers alike. The Mutty Lad is actually in the village looking for a lost cache of grimoires it knows are hidden somewhere nearby. Unfortunately for anyone doing so, opening the vault that contains the grimoires releases a deadly plague that isolates the village, not that the aranae knows or cares. Neverthere: She says she is a princess from a far shore, and she is certainly beautiful enough to be one. All the local lads court her, but the elders say she is simple—not that the lads are bothered. Her grandmother Forget-me-not (CN female human wereboar ranger 3) is wickedly brutal in her protection of her beloved grandchild. She knows the child Neverthere (CN female human wereboar bard 2) carries the family strain of lycanthropy, but in her case it has seemingly chased away her wits until, cruelly, she assumes the form of a great boar at the times of full moon when she runs with a pack of boars and is fully aware. Forget-me-not is horrified that a beau will whisk Neverthere away from her beloved kin and find out her secret—sure that discovery would mean her death—and becomes enraged by them. So far three have gone missing at her hand, but Neverthere is so taken with handsome strangers that it can only be a matter of time before the secret is uncovered and the fiercely independent old woman faces a terrible choice. Nighttime Nade and her friends in the woods: When Nade awakens at dusk—having spent the day in any quiet corner she finds and sleeping if she can—she heads into the dark woods to listen to her friends sobbing and lamenting into the night. The spirits within the wood, some say, are the souls of the mad who were buried here. As for Nade’s night wanderings: those who follow her end up lost and then vanish; those who oppose her die in their sleep. Nade (CN female human witch 7) is in truth calling the spirits to her, wearing their madness as a cloak that has stripped what few wits she has away. These spirits are absorbing her very soul in a frenzied need to avenge themselves upon the current ruler of this land, Lady Ashen Frenn (NG female human bard 5). Freen is the distant and only surviving relative of a cruel lord who butchered the people who became spirits in terrible mass burnings long, long ago. Nade’s arrival has roused the spirits from slumbering, and now everyone is becoming an innocent pawn in the souls’ thirst for vengeance. 11 12 13 14 Twenty Village Idiots

87 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS Old Gwen Halfthere and her broody chickens: The chickens love Gwen (N female gnome commoner 3) and follow her everywhere. Some take her talking to them as witchcraft and demand justice, claiming Gwen and her familiars are responsible for the spate of bad luck the village is having of late. In truth, the chickens (all of whom are imps [Pathfinder RPG Bestiary, page 78] able to polymorph into black chicken forms as well as their usual guises) are behind all the trouble. The thirteen imps simply want mischief and have been together as a broody flock for decades. The fact that they never lay eggs doesn’t bother Gwen, of course, since she is mad and doesn’t notice. Penelowen Sidestare, sneaking around the village playing hide and sneak with herself: Poor Penelowen (CN female human commoner 1/ rogue 2) has a thing about following strangers and sneakily watching them. She tries never to be seen, and in truth has upset and even angered some strangers she has stalked. Sad Stobb the Strangely: Stobb (CN male human commoner 3) takes great pride in never moving from his perch atop the old dolmen in the center of the village. He never says anything, but stares, using his prodigious expressions to communicate whatever thought happens to drift into his head. The locals humor him and feed him, and sometimes the local women even dance with him out of pity. Salty Sime and his Songs of Salt and Brine: Dressed as a ship’s captain and staring out to sea, Sime (CN male human druid 7) sings sea shanties under his breath and looks out for storms. When he sees them, he shivers for his brothers and sisters at sea. The thing is, Sime has lost his whole family to skum, and one day is expecting them back. In the meantime he watches, and sings, and tells of the sea in an unnaturally knowledgeable way, keeping his secret kin to himself as his wait goes on. The secret has broken his wits, however, and conversations veer to violence or misery on his part as readily as the wind changes her direction. The Broken One: A poor unfortunate creature, the Broken One (LG female mongrelman paladin 3) totters about the village on her crooked crutch, sniffing at the air. The children (and many adults) throw stones at her to drive her away, but the Broken One refuses to go. She never talks or communicates in any intelligible way. The Broken One is indeed sniffing the air—for demons. The village she is in has something terrible and forgotten hidden beneath its bones, and a cult of deranged local druids and witches are operating in the village to find a way down to this place and draw out and birth what slumbers there. The Broken One intends to stop them. Turnip Townpoke asleep again in his barrel: Townpoke (CN male dwarf commoner 1) stays in his barrel because the end of the world is coming, and his barrel is the only safe place to be. 15 16 17 18 19 20 Twenty Village Idiots

88 A New Birth— Improving Your Worthless Menial “Come here, tapewormlet. I need to insert this trumpet into your ear to improve your hearing.” “’Tis my life to obey, oh rotund one. Are you sure that’ll fit in my ear?” “I’m not inserting it, in truth. It’s a simple painless replacement. Now bite on this stick.” omunculi are fun, but they have plenty of scope for augmentation. There are—in truth—hundreds of books with recipes for different homunculi, and extracts from a few are given below. This is the tip of the cookery book iceberg as far as homunculi go; the little sods come in all shapes and sizes, and so do the things you want to do to them as they slowly bake or slither or birth into existence. It’s important to note that the additions below have—so far—only ever been made at “birth.” Adding and enhancing familiars when they are “living” is problematic, both for the damage it causes your property, and for the whining you have to tolerate when so enhancing them. Here are half a dozen suggestions for spicing up homunculi both for PCs and NPC minions. The costs are based on a standard 2 Hit Dice homunculus, so modify the costs accordingly for larger constructs. CHELLOR’S SUBTLE ARCANE CAP Cost 200 gp This discreet cap fits snugly onto most homunculi heads. As well as enhancing the range of your communication and scolding, it adds an interesting talking point to your minion’s appearance. The arcane cap is a hefty metal plate grafted onto the skull of the homunculus at creation. The cap is wreathed in runes and laced with curious nodules of brass, lead, and copper wire. H

89 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS These caps extend the range by which creators can communicate with their minions to a distance of half a mile (2,640 ft.). GARLINGTON’S SINGULAR TRUMPET EAR Cost 250 gp By inserting this discreet brass trumpet surgically into the construct’s head, the creator can greatly enhance its hearing. The trumpet is quite large, so much so that the unsightly construction lowers the homunculus’s general Perception by –1, but when any checks are required for Perception checks due to hearing, the checks are made with a +3 bonus. TREBB’S COPIOUS EYES Cost 800 gp Why settle for two eyes when your minion could so easily and readily have four? The insertion of the extra back eyes, as they are technically called, is tricky, but they prevent the homunculi from ever being flanked and provide +1 to all Perception checks. TREBB’S DISCREET EXTENDED POISON BLADDER Cost 1,000 gp A discreet bladder amendment gives your loyal devotee that extra ability in poisoning your foes. The bladder is unsightly, but no one ever worried about a homunculus’s appearance before—it does allow the creator to mix a certain extra cocktail into the poison sack of the construct at creation. At the time of manufacture, the maker of the homunculus can choose to add either 2 to the save DC of the poison attack, increase the frequency to once every 30 seconds for 30 minutes, or add an additional effect of lowering the target’s Dexterity by 1 even on a successful save. URINIOER’S BLOODLETTING BOND Cost 800 gp Put more of yourself into your minion and watch those abilities thrive! By putting two pints of blood into the homunculus through use of a specially created vessel, the creator enhances the bond with the homunculus, which adds 1 to Fly, Perception, and Stealth skills as a temporary bonus whenever the homunculus is within 50 ft. of the creator. Whenever this bonus is temporarily stolen, the sulking construct loses double the bonus for a period of 24 hours. Quite why this happens is unknown, and the homunuculus’s resulting sullenness has quite rightly caused its destruction due to lack of gratitude. ZANN’S STYLISH MOUTHMAW Cost 700 gp Extra jaw means fear for more! This unsightly nail-and-shark-tooth-infested jaw increases the homunculus’s bite attack to 1d6–1 plus poison. A New Birth—Improving Your Worthless Menial

90 t is true that most players are less interested in what’s on a coin than its color, and unlike real life, fantasy bankers have established a magnificent standard across realms. What is not standard, however, are rulers: those depicted upon coins and the shape of those coins. Furthermore, the temptation to set up one’s own coinage must be considerable, as would shaving or clipping coins to retain more precious ore whilst blaming smaller coins on damage and long circulation. Thieves’ guilds, large companies, and petty lords and tyrants would surely mint their own coinage, and these would fall into circulation. Here are three lineages depicted upon coins of the realm. You could use these as ways to add a dimension to your adventures, detailing some aspects of history, or you could have certain coins much sought after for obscure alloys, or perhaps even innate magical enhancement due to the land and method of their creation. Coin of the Realm “One hundred and twenty nine thousand nine-hundred and ninety three. One hundred and twenty nine thousand nine-hundred and ninety four . . .” “Achoooo! Oh, sorry, Master.” “Foolish slug, you’ve made me lose count of my treasure. Now was it one hundred and twenty nine thousand nine-hundred and ninety four, or one hundred and twenty nine thousand nine-hundred and ninety five? Damnation, you are a trial, sluglet! Was that last gold coin the one of the Dynasty of Repulsive Queen Hobb, or the coinage of His Grace the Duke of Bagg? Gah! As punishment, you can go and sit in the hot oven for an hour at two hundred degrees. That should teach you not to interrupt again. “One, two, three . . .” I

91 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The Line of Fharr Coinage Triangular, Crudely Cut The Fharrs were an unhappy lot. They spent their time reveling in the dark past their lineage had enjoyed in the hope that the future would be brighter. Their aged, almost blind elder, Lady Elisa Fharr, hit upon the idea of minting coinage to recoup the family fortune. Unfortunately, Lady Elisa was not used to having people say no to her, so when she proposed depicting her beloved dogs on the reverse of each coin, no one said anything to stop her. Her ruse was discovered after the minting of the first coins, and she was cornered in her rotting mansion by local tax maesters. She threw herself onto the cliffs below her home rather than face public humiliation. Copper: The copper coin depicts a young Lady Elisa astride her favorite riding mastiff Lord Lumpry. The reverse depicts a weeping Elisa at her beloved dog’s graveside. A mound of her beheaded little friends (who did not cry enough) lie immediately by the grave. Silver: Here, Lady Elisa’s favorite dire poodle Williard is depicted savaging a trio of domestic pigs while their hapless owner looks on, clearly the next in line for attack. The reverse depicts Lady Elisa playing a harpsichord and eating fruit. Gold: The gold coin shows Lady Elisa engaged in her favorite pastime of hunting with dogs. In this scene, she chases a pack of peasants through a valley. Sadly for those being hunted, a clear line of soldiers armed with crossbows await just round the corner ahead of the fleeing peasants. The reverse shows Lady Elisa in her favorite wig, a hairpiece so large that the ceilings of the manor house had to be raised. Workers can clearly be seen at their happy task of raising the roof to accommodate the hairpiece and smiling merrily. Platinum: This regal coin has a royal scene. Lady Elisa is surrounded by her beloved children, and her human young lie just beyond. The dogs are being fed all manner of treats while the children and youngsters of her flesh look hungrily on. The reverse shows the family motto: “If only all flesh on the world was hound, a ruler might truly rule.” Munkjugg Magg Coinage Circular, Hefty and Clearly Minted Munkjugg Magg spent fifty years in a royal prison after being wrongly accused of stealing a handkerchief, so it’s perhaps understandable that Magg nursed a slight grievance against the royal family of the time. A master forger, he subtly altered the coins of the realm to depict things they were never intended to show. Copper: Here, good Prince Marren is shown astride his favorite riding pony. He is crushing artisans under the horse’s hooves and eating slices of cake. The reverse shows him fat, corpulent, and riddled with syphilis several decades later, locked in a cell and screaming as madness takes him. Coin of the Realm

92 Silver: In this coin, Princess Mella is shown before her boudoir, with a hundred courtiers lurking in her bedroom just behind her shoulder. The reverse depicts a frightfully old and repulsive Mella with dozens of young male courtiers crooning about her. A prominent one polishes her false teeth lovingly. Gold: The queen beats a gardener to death with a hoe for treading on her roses, and nearby her subjects look on, smiling nervously. The reverse of the coin shows her being amateurishly beheaded as the king looks on with a dozen courtesans in his arms; a carnival air of laughter and celebration abounds. Platinum: The king is shown shooting his crossbow at peasants with apples on their heads. Quite clearly the somewhat myopic monarch has misplaced a few shots. The back of the coin shows him hurling peasants out over the forest of stones using a giant catapult, while royal wet nurses wipe drool from the mad king’s chin. Pirate Captain Troubled Jim Coinage Square, Crudely Drawn Troubled Jim was a frightening figure; by the time he was twenty, he’d killed over two thousand men. As he grew older and stiffer, he took more to his boat—the Bloody Slaughterhouse—from which he issued regal decrees to those who strayed toward his archipelago. One winter, to calm their captain, his crew and subjects minted coins. Sadly they were not bloody enough for Jim, and he had those working on these all boiled alive. The idea, however, stuck, and Jim ordered his remaining followers to mint fresh coins in his honor. Copper: On this coin, Troubled Jim is eating the innards of his enemy and smiling as his stricken foe looks on in terror. The reverse shows Jim’s collection of disemboweling spikes and hunting saws. Silver: Here, Troubled Jim feeds his enemies into a large vice; the reverse shows Jim and his colleagues toasting an enormous pie being served up some time later. Gold: On the gold coin, Troubled Jim is happily singing while feeding errant crew to sharks, merrily dangling some on ropes above the waters to be slowly eaten alive. The reverse shows Jim eating a huge shark pie and showing his prized collection of knives, mangles, and skewers to his admiring, calm crew. Platinum: The regal coin shows Jim’s ship, the Bloody Slaughterhouse, during a festival. Details on the coin reveal crew members happily playing dangerous games involving blindfolded boars covered in spiked armor running about a greased deck, and merrily pushing each other in the way of the hogs and into the crocodile-infested waters below. The reverse has a selection of severed feet arranged in a circular pattern around a picture of Jim holding a meat cleaver. Coin of the Realm

93 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS ome people love to be the center of attention—they can’t get enough of it. Others are happy to blend into the background; such characters may often be the staple of Your Whispering Homunculus articles, but for today we’re turning things on their head and looking at the great big show-offs of the world. Think of the greatest acts you’ve ever seen and what made them truly outstanding. Incredible presence is one aspect, but so also is the memorable show or event that startles you, amazes you, and remains long in your memory. Bards know all about making a spectacle, but making a true spectacle is never easy, so some cults, guilds, and troupes of bards have come up with various testing acts that require their greatest efforts to produce a truly awe-inspiring show. Each of the acts requires notable instruments or props, and such testing equipment is not portable, making these acts of little practical use to the bard in day-to-day bardic performances. Furthermore, the acts each involve at least five minutes of performance, so unless circumstances are extenuating, the checks are unlikely to help with such talents. On many occasions, though, a bard is invited into a royal court as a diplomat, or as a front to a gang of high-class rogues, and such notable performances can be of great value. As GM, you may consider using such skill checks to make very favorable impressions, to open doors, or to gain the trust of powerful NPCs. When appropriate, substitute such checks in place of Bluff, Diplomacy, or Intimidate checks and modify the attitude of NPCs accordingly. The acts below are all DC 30 for base-level success. Because you’re going for a full spectacle, though, if the performers achieve a DC 40 or higher success, the performance becomes truly memorable. In terms of failure: No-one likes to see a show-off fumble—it leaves a bad taste—so when checks fail to achieve a base-level success, by however small an amount, the result is a DC 0 check. Born Show-Offs “Master, look, look, look! I’m wearing the costume of the Norge Dancers, who specialized in stilt-walking turpsicare whilst juggling live puppies and breathing fire!” “Never mind about that. Come and lance this boil.” S

94 The Congregation of Thar Cost 500 gp, Weight 25 lbs., Perform (average of act and oratory) One hundred and ninety eight faces showing different human emotions are used in this complex act of mime, oratory, and ode. There are only thirteen true acts of the congregation, all of which last at least thirty minutes. The Dance of the Great Puppets Cost 500 gp, Weight 40 lbs., Perform (dance) The eleven aspects of life are embodied in this dance, involving life-size puppets, including a giant and dragon. Costumes in this dance require the dancer to literally become part of the creature represented, and the dancers need almost perfect poise, musculature, and grace. The Jubilee of Sin and Joy Cost 500 gp, Weight 30 lbs., Perform (comedy) The various facets, costumes, and props of this solo act are held within a wooden temple within which the actor withdraws to fast change into the roles of the play. The clown—the central figure of the performance—takes on the role of thirty people in an act involving tragic-comic acting reliant upon magnificent timing and buffoonery. The Orchestra of Oneness and Storms at Sea Cost 500 gp, Weight 90 lbs., Perform (percussion instruments) Swelling like a great ship, the orchestra requires a large wagon to transport it, and needs great care in its transportation. A linked series of drums, chimes, and a vast gong resonate to the sound of a coming storm above a happy town that is, by the end of the act, swallowed by a great tidal wave. People have been known to be so taken in by the acts that, rumor has it, a handful have actually drowned. The Quaking Sitar Cost 500 gp, Weight 40 lbs., Perform (string instruments) The player sits in the center of a complex web of strings hung from four sitars that stretch outward. A hurdy-gurdy-like turning handle played with the feet provides deeper notes, and the instrument can be played as a harp or plucked string instrument, providing an amazing and complex variety of notes. The Veins and Pipes of the Great Age Cost 500 gp, Weight 30 lbs., Perform (wind instruments) A vast single pipe with countless bladders, horns, and lesser pipes worshiping its hull, the veins and pipes require incredible dexterity and talent to play properly. It can produce a moving array of sounds from the highest pitches of penny whistles to the song of the great pipe itself—a note similar to the mournful call of the largest whales of the ocean. Born Show-Offs

95 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS he laboratory of any alchemist is a place of wonders: animal parts, beakers of ankheg acids, distillations of silvered dragon’s bile and bilious crystals of saltpeter, the exhalations of volcanic mountains, and pots of simple clay infused with dangerous, vital energies. These are the tools of the alchemist, and investigating a lab properly might result in a great many delightful outcomes; healing potions, oils of magical light and unguents to transform an ordinary weapon into a silvered one, or—more aggressively—captured fire lizards, potions of dragon’s breath, and pots of green slime worth throwing at any creature not easily susceptible to lesser weaponry. The Joy of Explosions By Wolfgang Baur “Oh my trio of sniveling apprentices, oh woeful servants of the Grand Arts, be not of doleful mien and bitter complaints! Take joy in the culmination of these labors!” “Master, the fumes scratch at my eyes and my sputum is filled with rugtose streamers. I fear the results!” “This, oh worthless dishwasher, is why you remain an apprentice. Be bold, hold this stoop of ale for me, and give me the match cord. It is time for phlogiston to achieve its higher purpose. Behold!” T

96 Three Apprentices The makers of these items are, often as not, an alchemist’s apprentice— foolish creatures sent to stir the phlogiston, to squeeze the last drops of alkahest from a water elemental’s festering ooze, to combine cinnabar and oil of angel’s tears. Herewith, three such fools seeking greater knowledge. Apprentice Mushwin: A bright goblin lad turned to a warty, cynical, fat goblin apprentice who has sniffed, stirred, and poured a river’s worth of potions, Apprentice Mushwin keeps his bombs dry and his vials of invisibility close to hand. As a senior apprentice, he has a proper respect for the materials he handles. At the same time, he is quick enough to make some fraction of every experiment disappear into the small bag of holding that is his storehouse and smuggling tool. On his rare days out of his master’s lab, he sells off his stolen wares at discount rates—and has the gall to ask for payment in kisses as often as gold. Mushwin hopes that someday a properly bloodthirsty set of adventurers will murder his master while he is out and about, but is a touch too loyal to suggest it except when riotously drunk. Apprentice Yrwina: The young human orphan Yrwina was taken in by her master as a maid and servant, but her quick wits, sharp eyes, and courage when feeding and handling basilisks, stone lizards, and poisonous vipers and scorpions led to swift promotion to a full apprenticeship. She is slender and raven-haired, and by nature she is very cautious and curious—which side wins out in any particular case is a conundrum. Yrwina is especially clever in the use of magical oils, chalks, and animal mutagens. It is said she once transformed a wild boar into an Oliphant and a mouse into a raging weasel. Rumors among the alchemical world claim that she can transform rude servants into pigs. Senior Apprentice Faldagoram: A long-fingered, bearded gargoyle of thirty years or more, Senior Apprentice Faldagoram was human once. Now his stony skin makes him impervious to minor burns, splashing acid, and reeking smoke, and he is skilled in glassblowing and in grinding lenses and stone containers. Glass and stone seem to respond to his touch, and some claim his gargoyle curse comes from an experiment involving flayed earth elementals and the black blood of the earth. Certainly, he moves slowly and deliberately, speaks the elemental tongues smoothly, and seems to know secrets from centuries past as if he lived at the time. Faldagoram has a secret journal full of exceptionally sharp observations on longevity—and on the distillation of life essences from living victims into simple lozenges and liquids. He wishes more than anything to acquire a demon’s heart, though he tells no one that it is not for himself: he wishes to revive his petrified wife from her stony slumber. 1 2 3 The Joy of Explosions

97 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The Joy of Explosions 23 Jars, Beakers, Glassware, and Other Breakables The products of their work are, of course, retained in jars, beakers, vials, and pots of many kinds. Here are some that were, perhaps wisely, set aside as not quite meeting the Master’s standards. Beaker of Sublimation: Anything placed in this beaker turns into a vapor. Dangerous when combined with magical potions—creatures moving into a cloud of vapor like this are affected by vaporized poison or potion. Solids placed in a beaker of sublimation generate an obscuring mist spell. Cloudcatching Bucket: A thin flurry of wires, threads, and spooling lines above this bucket pulls water from the air—or any other vapor. Obscuring mist, solid fogs, deadly smokes, and gases are all removed from the space the bucket is in and one additional space around it each round, until it has cleared 25 squares total. The water, noxious gas, or smoke are turned into a slurry or liquid within the bucket and can be dumped out when full. Cobra Amphorae: A ceramic amphora warded by a sepia snake sigil— and plainly marked with a coiled cobra sigil. Often used by alchemists to keep nosy apprentices out of the rarest, most precious, or most dangerous ingredients. Disintegrating Urn: Anything placed within the urn is destroyed, leaving only a thin gritty dust. Hands and fingers are likewise removed if placed within the urn—giving it at least some potential as a weapon. Also used to clean up flooding on occasion. Distillation Tower: This confection of green glass can turn any volume of liquid into a smaller volume of powders, reducing its weight and volume for easy transport. Magical potions transformed this way may be restored by adding water—but on a roll of 1 on 1d20 they reverse their usual effect. Dragon’s Glass: A steady stream of flammable vapor pours from this glass, useful for maintaining a fire at a particular temperature for hours. The resulting flame is especially helpful to glassblowers and the makers of glass tubes, globes, and pipes. If broken, the dragon’s glass erupts in the manner of a fireball. Fireproof Crucible: Items place in this jug never burn, boil, or explode. Generally used for storing phlogiston, phoenix essence, and similar materials, it has the unfortunate property that flammable materials poured out of the jug ignite immediately—sometimes a surprise to those not used to such devices. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

98 Frozen Jar: Liquids poured into this jar freeze into solid chunks of ice. Unfortunately, there’s no way to melt liquids in a frozen jar: they must be chipped out and melted elsewhere. Hummingbird Glass: Extremely delicate beaker used to capture the most sublime and esoteric of items, especially incorporeal items such as souls, spirits, and final breaths, these vials and bottles are white when empty, and shimmering green, blue, or violet when full. They shatter instantly if they take any damage. Idler’s Pot: This pot seems barely worth the trouble in a well-run laboratory, but it adds water to itself when commanded, or at regular intervals. Useful to keep a thickening potion or unguent from burning. Sometimes called the “invisible apprentice.” Lightning Kettle: This heavy pot is carved of green stone and usually has a lip of carved amber. It can capture and hold any electrical spell placed into it, such as a shocking grasp or lightning bolt, and this energy is then infused into objects placed within the pot (such as rings, memory gears, or even wands). Primarily used in recharging items, it can sometimes be used defensively to capture an errant spell. Reaching into one with an unshielded hand unleashes the spell against the unprotected limb. Manticore Pot: Set with iron bars in a helical series, this pot is said to provide the perfect mixing ground for necromantic energies; somehow its structure holds these forms of magic longer and purer. Necrotic and life-affirming energies alike can be spun into the pot and then infused into small constructs such as leastlings, imps, and homunculi. Poisoner’s Ball: A single dose of poison can be placed into this ceramic ball, no bigger than an apple. When thrown, it vaporizes the poison into a single square, delivering any poison as a gaseous ranged touch attack. Unfortunately for the user, any roll of 1 or 2 with this attack means a premature firing, and the poison affects the thrower with a -2 penalty to the saving throw. Powdering Canister: Materials kept in this metal canister dry out remarkably quickly; liquids turn into useless, cakey powders that lose all magical properties. Smokeless Firepot: This pot is always just above the boiling point of water, and is commonly used to provide teas and herbal infusions to alchemists and apprentices. Many such pots have a simple pouring spout and a handle made of some cool material, such as wood or leather. Solvent Chest: Anything placed in this fine darkwood chest turns into liquid within 24 hours. Useful as an aid to digestion for some monsters (such as gelatinous cubes). 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 The Joy of Explosions

99 MORE WHISPERING HOMUNCULUS The Joy of Explosions Soul’s Shelter Cup: This chunk of hollow crystal is often carved in the form of a skull or head-shaped goblet. It can be used as a magic jar as the spell of the same name, but souls once removed to a shelter cannot be restored to any body except for a construct. Sometimes this cup is useful when animating golems, and it is said that necromancers first created the form to taunt their enemies. Spider Jug: Goblins and apprentices seem to find these hilarious: when broken, they release a swarm of (harmless) spiders. Statis Globe: Any item placed in this glass sphere does not age, decay, or rot. Living things that fit into the globe (about the size of a mouse or smaller) are frozen and do not note the passage of time until they are removed from the globe. Stirring Beaker: A heavy glass beaker that contains a small stone or pebble; this pebble moves in a circle at the bottom of the stirring beaker, keeping it stirring without effort. This makes a bit of a clattering noise if the beaker is empty, but it never stops. Tempering Trough: Used when cooling steel for a blade, this small trough gathers some portion of the essence from magical weaponry. It always detects as magical but does not have any magical powers. Weighs 15 pounds. Unbreakable Phial: This potion vial never breaks. Useful for throwing things across a battlefield. Vial of Little Tampering: This small brown potion vial can only be opened by the person who made it or by a knock spell. 12 Explosions in Peculiar Shining Raiments Explosions are a staple in movies and games, and yet, sometimes they are a letdown. “Boom, 10d6 damage” is pretty good. But some of the following one-liners might turn your kaboom into a total KA-BAM howyalikemenow?! Blue Heat: The flames are hotter than usual, and ignite paper and other flammables much more readily. Roll two dice for all item saving throws, and take the worse result. Darkfire: The explosion is so bright that darkvision is negated for all affected creatures the following round. Creatures with sunlight sensitivity take an additional +1 per die of damage. 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 1 2